


Testing Makes Perfect

by the_ragnarok



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Brief mention of miscarriage, Dirty Talk, Future Fic, Impregnation Kink, M/M, Mpreg, brief mention of infant mortality, extra fingers of true love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes in with an envelope and a blinding smile, handing the first to Derek. “Test results came back,” he says, as though Derek didn’t know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from tumblr [here](http://theragnarokd.tumblr.com/post/41313195952/ficlet-testing-makes-perfect). Not beta'd.

Stiles comes in with an envelope and a blinding smile, handing the first to Derek. “Test results came back,” he says, as though Derek didn’t know. 

The paper quivers a tiny bit in Derek’s hands. Wind, probably. He tears the envelope open, scanning the lists. 

Stiles reads behind his shoulder. “Nothing?” he says hopefully.

“None of the things they tested for.” Derek keeps his voice cautious.

Even so, he can’t help but smile as Stiles bounces across the room, finally settling down on the chair in front of Derek, rubbing his hands across his face. “Oh my God,” he says, leg still bouncing in place. He keeps on grinning, dazed.

Derek pokes him in the nose. “Your face will get stuck like this.” If there are worse ways for Stiles’ face to stick than smiling widely, well.

Stiles shakes his head, rueful. “Fuck, it feels like we’ve been waiting on these results forever.” 

“I take it you’re not in favor of waiting till tomorrow,” Derek says dryly.

“Why the fuck would I?” Stiles is back on his feet and bouncing. “C’mon upstairs already before I drag you by your belt.” He sprints upstairs, not even looking to see if Derek will follow.

“You’d only get a hernia,” Derek calls after him, following him in a more sedate pace. He curls his fingers into loose fists, keeping his nails from becoming claws; wouldn’t do to shapeshift from sheer excitement like a kid. Derek is pretty sure he should at least pretend to be a grown-up, now.

~~

Stiles is impatient and reckless and generous, as he always is, and a little indecisive.

“No I’m not,” Stiles says with an actual pout. “I want you to do me  _and_  I want to do you. Chocolate, peanut butter.”

“Greedy,” Derek says, stopping Stiles’ vehement protests with a kiss. It’s all sophistry, anyway; they have a routine. Derek’s always found it easiest to come while topping someone, but he loves how it feels when Stiles fucks him first. Eager to know what it’s like when Stiles comes in him, nothing to keep them apart.

“You’re such a closet romantic, I can hear you having  _thoughts_.” Stiles licks Derek’s eyebrow, pushes inside with a familiar thrust. Derek gasps and neglects to mention that Stiles is an eyebrow-licking  _weirdo_ who shouldn’t throw stones.

It’s hotter – Stiles' skin, yes, but mostly Stiles’ expression, his open-mouthed  _Holy shit I can’t believe this_ face. Derek licks at Stiles’ slack lips, grunting softly when Stiles loses all semblance of rhythm and ruts to completion.

Then it’s Derek’s turn. He always loses himself in opening Stiles up, finds a peace and purpose in it that he can’t find elsewhere. Stiles’ body, the quiet noises he makes, his uncomplicated pleasure. It’s a necessary reminder that sometimes, things can just be good.

It’s not until he’s pushing inside that it hits Derek, the purpose of what they’re doing. He freezes halfway inside Stiles, shocked by the hot warmth of him, the  _openness_.

Stiles laughs, brushing two fingers over Derek’s cheek. “Finally sank in, did it?”

“Shut up,” Derek grunts, and shows him sinking in.

~~

“Think it took?” Stiles says afterwards, lying together in loose pile of limbs.

“For me, maybe,” Derek says. Werewolves are fertile; their problems are in other places. “The instructions on the spell said humans might need repetition, though.”

“Mmm, repetition,” Stiles says happily. “Sign me right up for that.”

Derek rolls his eyes and gets up in search of a washcloth.

He can’t help but wander by downstairs, picking up the test results again. He’s so intent he doesn’t hear Stiles closing up behind him until a hand drops on his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Stiles says. “We did a whole genetic tree on the Hales and their various genetic problems, we got tested for everything damaging that showed up in your family for the last four generations. Our kids are never going to have to worry about anything worse than wearing eyeglasses.”

“Wereborn don’t need glasses,” Derek says, sliding into the familiar argument. He still clutches the result like a talisman, thinking of his mother’s miscarriages, his father giving birth to a little girl who didn’t survive long enough to die in the Hale fire.

So awful it’s almost an upside: maybe their children will grow healthy and strong, only to be mowed down by hunters.

Stiles shakes Derek’s shoulder. “Okay, I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but stop it. From now on, only good things happen. Okay?”

Not too many good things have happened to Derek, but he looks at Stiles and nods; Stiles always did have a way of cheating the odds.


	2. Chapter 2

Pregnancy is doing strange things to Stiles’ stamina. In the non-euphemistic sense, it’s shot to hell; he can’t even stand on his feet for longer than half an hour without serious aches. 

In the sense where he can keep fucking Derek for _hours_ before coming, though, he’s gold.

The tricky part is finding a good position. Right now Stiles is kneeling, Derek facing away from him, sweat glistening on his thighs as he rides Stiles’ cock. Derek’s cock is leaking steadily, has been wetting Stiles’ hand for the last - Stiles glances at the watch on the wall - twenty minutes.

Damn. There’s no way Derek isn’t sore. Stiles kisses behind Derek’s ear. “Do you need to take a break?”

Derek shakes his head. Words aren’t easy for him at the best of times, but when he’s getting fucked like this it’s like he can’t even remember language, which is hotter than should be legal.

“You could fuck me,” Stiles tries, and Derek just shakes his head harder still. Stubborn ass. 

Ass which is currently tightening around Stiles’ dick in hot little pulses and, shit, newfound stamina or not, this may not be the most helpful train of thought right now.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Stiles figures he may as well show his appreciation. By the little spasm that goes through Derek when Stiles says it, it’s not a bad idea at all. “And you still take me so fucking well, how is that even possible, I’m asking you?”

And just like that, Stiles has a flash of inspiration. He pushes Derek forward, urging him to stand on hands and knees. Derek looks back, slightly alarmed, and manages to grunt, “Your belly—”

“Is fine, I barely even have a bump,” Stiles grouses, which - okay, slight exaggeration, but it’s really not getting in the way all that much. “Lie there and take it.”

That makes Derek give a full body shudder, and Stiles grins in victory. He braces himself against Derek’s shoulders, noses at the back of Derek’s neck, thrilling at having this strong, stubborn man at his mercy. “Are you full enough?” he breathes in Derek’s ear. “Or do you want more?”

Derek makes a soft, shocked noise. And nods.

Stiles has to take a deep, bracing breath before moving slightly back. Derek grunts when Stiles slides nearly all the way out of him, but it can’t be helped, Stiles has to see what he’s doing and the belly really isn’t helping here.

He touches where he and Derek are connected, where Derek is soft and wet, _breached_. Pushes the tip of his finger around Derek’s rim, looking for the easiest way inside. Derek’s making steady noises now, grunts grown long enough to count as moans, and he outright sobs when Stiles slides a finger in alongside his cock.

“I need you open,” Stiles says, quiet and intimate. “You do so well for me, Derek, so fucking good,” and the second finger comes in as well, too quick but Derek loves it, going wild under him. “I’ll open you and keep you plugged up with me, get you big with my babies—”

Derek keens when he comes, long pulsing streams pouring from his untouched cock. The spasms inside go on for even longer, milking Stiles through his own climax and beyond it.

Stiles flops beside Derek, turning to nuzzle Derek’s shoulder. “Achievement unlocked: mutual orgasms!” He fistpumps weakly.

“I can’t believe I want to have your kids,” Derek groans softly, but he’s pulling Stiles into his arms to nuzzle him right back.


End file.
